


Blackmail

by 391780 (goblinparty)



Series: Cold Wind [16]
Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Slurs, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-16 23:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2289185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goblinparty/pseuds/391780
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The man in grey hadn't noticed the gold Buick following him around all day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blackmail

The man in grey hadn't noticed the gold Buick following him around all day. He'd gotten coffee, picked up his dry cleaning, and gone to the gym without ever suspecting a thing was out of the ordinary. He drove down to a warehouse and had just stepped out of his car when two figures were suddenly upon him, clamping a damp rag over his face and lifting him off his feet. The world went black, and when he finally awoke to the stinging scent of ammonia, he found himself entirely immobilized, ziptied to an office chair. A dapper bearded man came into his view, and he noticed the butterfly knife in his hand.

“Let's talk about Fargo. Specifically, why you're killing off our employees.” Numbers flashed a deadly smile and brought the blade closer to the man's face.

“I know you. You're Numbers. Which means somewhere around here...” he scanned the room until he saw the tall, copper headed figure in the corner. “... is Wrench.”

“Have we met?” Numbers was amazed at how calm his voice sounded, considering the panic he was feeling.

“No, but I've seen you and your little boy-toy around. Couple of fucking fairies. Don't try to even deny it, I've seen you two together.” The man in grey chuckled maliciously to himself. Numbers reached out and slashed along the man's cheekbone, blood pouring down the side of his face, soaking into his shirt.

“Tell me who you work for.” Numbers placed the blade against the other cheek, ready to strike again. The man in grey laughed menacingly, causing Numbers to cock an eyebrow. Normally people didn't exactly giggle when you cut them.

“I'm not scared of a couple of faggots.” He spit. “Dangerous shit, being a fucking queer in this line of work. Wonder what Fargo would say about it.”

“Fargo will never know. You're never leaving this room.” Numbers' tried to keep his voice from shaking, but he could hardly contain his rage. Namecalling didn't typically affect him, but this time it was also directed towards Wrench, and that made it personal.

“Fargo already knows.” Numbers' felt his heart stop. “I set up the meeting already. Should be here soon, actually. I mailed a few photos a few days ago, they should have reached the guy by now.”

“Photos?” Numbers tried to mask the fear in his voice.

“Wanna see some? I have a few in my jacket pocket.” The man in grey stared unblinking at Numbers as he fished out the pictures. The grainy shots of Numbers and Wrench making out in an alleyway, hands in waistbands and under shirts, made Numbers' feel dizzy. This was it. They were exposed, and it would only be a matter of time before someone came to collect their heads. He saw Wrench wave to get his attention.

_What's going on?_

_He's seen us together, he's blackmailing us._ Numbers handed the pictures to his partner, who stared at them wide eyed with fear.

_But we've got the photos, right? We kill him, he can't blackmail us._

_He sent a few to F-a-r-g-o. Says a guy is coming from there to collect more._

_Today?_

_Yeah. We should wait for the guy, maybe pop him and this prick and then skip town._ Wrench nodded solemnly. He felt sick, but didn't want to give the man in grey the satisfaction of seeing him distraught. The sound of a car pulling up to the warehouse caught Numbers' attention, and he tightened his grip on the gun in his jacket as he heard the car door slam shut.

“That must be him now. Better say goodbye to your retarded boyfriend.” The man in grey gave Numbers a wicked smile. The large metal door swung open and in stepped a man in a leather jacket.

“Aussie?”

“I've got a fuckin' name, you know.” Mr. Jergen smiled brightly at his friend, his forehead furled in confusion. He waved a quick hello to Wrench before turning back to Numbers. “What're you blokes doing here?”

“This is the prick who keeps shooting our assets.” Numbers gestured to the man ziptied to the chair behind him. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“Picking up photos of the pair of you snogging, apparently.” The Australian turned to the man in grey. “You said you had more, right? Where at?”

“Untie me and I'll show you.”

“Right-o.” As Jergen cut the zip ties, Wrench pulled Numbers aside.

_We can't kill Aussie. We can't. He's a loudmouth idiot but he's **our** loudmouth idiot. He wouldn't do this to us._

_Wrench, he's already done it. He's cutting this asshole loose and getting the rest of the photographs now._ Wrench bit his lip. He would give anything to be anywhere else right now, far away from this chaos. His world was crashing in on him, and he felt exhausted by the ordeal. He watched as Jergen clapped the man in grey on the back and they headed to the door together. Mr. Jergen turned around and said something to Numbers, causing the man in grey to smile wickedly.

_What was that?_

_He said to stay here._

_Are we going to? We can just run._ Wrench pursed his lips, hoping his partner would choose the less violent option.

_It'll buy us more time from Fargo if we wait and kill him when he returns._

_You're set on doing this, then?_ Numbers nodded and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jacket. He smoked in silence, trying to erase all the memories of palling around with the Aussie from his mind. It would be so much easier if he wasn't such a genial little chatterbox, but that's exactly what he was. A chatterbox. No way would their secret be safe, he'd have to go.

After a few minutes, Jergen and the man in grey returned with a file folder labeled 'W/N'. Wrench noticed Jergen had his gun out, and felt his guts churn. He felt humiliated for believing that someone in their line of work would be compassionate, that they'd actually been friends. He balled his fists in impotent frustration, helpless to do anything.

“Well, boys, it's been fun, but we'd better wrap this up.” The man in grey looked absolutely giddy. Jergen lifted his gun, then abruptly swung it around to his left, shooting the man in grey through his skull. Brain and blood sprayed everywhere, and he pulled out a handkerchief to wipe off his face. Wrench felt his knees go weak with relief and sat down on the chair behind him, mind reeling. Jergen pulled out a lighter and set the file folder filled with photographs alight. 

“Pretty cute photos, though I wouldn't recommend doing that shit in public anymore, you know?”

“We were drunk.” Numbers mumbled absentmindedly, still reeling from shock.

“Ah, we've all been there.” Jergen nudged the corpse with his boot. “So he's the guy knocking off our assets, eh? Good fucking riddance. Two birds one stone, huh mate? Far as I reckon, he's working for a rival syndicate that thinks Fargo's getting a bit too big for it's britches. Wants to tear us up, knock us down and all that. We'll have to hide him good, else we'll get some pretty nasty retribution I imagine.”

“We'll throw him in the trunk of his car and take it to the junkyard to be crushed. They won't find him.”

“Oi, that is intensely clever! You're a scary bloke, you know that?” Jergen grinned broadly at his friends. “Afterward we'll hit the bar, eh? Sound good?” He signed _Beer?_ at Wrench, earning him a grin and a thumbs up.

“Hey, listen, you're not gonna, you know...” Numbers trailed off, unsure how to proceed.

“Look, mate, I know I've got a reputation as a bit of a Chatty Cathy, but I actually can keep a secret. Besides, I knew even before that prick ever called me up and mailed me your cute little photos. Wrench looks at you like he's a flipping lovestruck schoolgirl.” He chuckled a little bit and clapped Numbers on the arm. “I ain't got a problem with it, and as far as I'm concerned, nobody else needs to know.” He grabbed the man in grey by the ankles and pulled him out the door. Numbers tapped Wrench on the elbow.

_We have a friend. Who knew?_

_Sort of a relief, actually. It was hard when I could only trust myself, and it got easier when I found you... but it feels a lot less isolating to have someone else around who has our backs. No offense._

_None taken, I was feeling the same way._ Numbers smiled up at Wrench, who kissed him on the nose, earning him a scowl and playful swat across the cheek. As they made their way to the door, Numbers promised himself he'd be a lot more tolerant of the Aussie's stories and maybe even allow himself to get to know the man more. His heart felt lighter now that it wasn't just two against the world anymore, and he realized how much he had missed having a network of people who had his back. His thoughts turned to Hammer, and how he ought to make more of an effort to befriend him. He chuckled at the memory of their last encounter, and as he stepped into the biting cold air, decided to tackle that particular task as soon as he could. 

 


End file.
